Coach Benny
by unforth
Summary: Joining swim team was easily the best decision of Dean's life. (HS AU; underage; Dean/Castiel/Benny)
Hey guys! Long time, no post. On March 16th, I had a baby boy - my first child - and that's definitely put rather the dent in my writing time. However, this morning I had an idea for a little thing and decided to experiment - since a lot of the problem is simply finding the time to sit at my computer (I am literally typing one handed while holding a baby to my boob with the other hand in order to type this author's note). So. I thought, since this was short, I'd try typing the whole thing on my phone. It worked, so I'm considering my options for further phone writing. I go back to work on May 23rd, at which time I should be able to return to more regular writing but in the meantime...

...so yeah, have this ficlet, my first time dabbling in Destiny (Dean/Cas/Benny), a trio I rather like. :)

* * *

Coach Benny was the best.

All through Dean's childhood, his dad wanted Dean to play football, his mom wanted him to play baseball, even Sammy weighed in that Dean should do track, but Dean wanted to swim. When Coach Benny found him as a bright-eyed freshman swimming laps when no one else was around, he recognized Dean's potential, he went to John and Mary and made it clear that Dean would be wasted in team sports when, as a swimmer, Dean could shine on his own merits.

They relented and let Dean join the swim team.

The first time Dean won a race, no one was more proud than Coach Benny. The great big bear of a man caught Dean in an enormous hug, lifted him clear off the ground and spun him around, shouting enthusiastically in his southern drawl that he knew Dean could do it, knew Dean had it in him.

No one, not even his parents, believed in Dean, in his skill and potential, like Coach Benny did.  
By the time he started junior year, Dean was one of the top young swimmers in Kansas. It was all Dean had ever wanted - he'd even gotten calls from colleges that wanted to recruit him a full year before he could apply - but Coach Benny pushed him to want more. Coach explained to him about Olympic try-outs, stayed hours after school to train Dean and get him ready for the achievements awaiting him. God, Dean worshipped the guy, and though he knew the fond, doting look he sometimes saw on Coach's face meant nothing, couldn't mean what Dean wished it meant, that didn't stop Dean from replicating that expression in his dreams, didn't stop Dean from imagining that gorgeous, low, smooth voice praising Dean's body the same way he praised Dean's swimming skills. Dean knew he should be ashamed of how often he got off thinking about Coach, but he wasn't. For no reason he could define, he thought Coach would be proud of him, just like Coach was proud of him of everything else that Dean had accomplished. And if sometimes, after a particularly intense training session, a particularly intense fantasy, Dean couldn't keep the blushes from his face, couldn't prevent a nascent erection from tenting his swim trunks? Benny never said a word. He'd been a teenage boy once himself, he must understand that boners could happen at the most awkward times.

Senior year, Dean's parents thought Dean should step down his training, focus on academics to strengthen his college applications. Coach knew better, knew Dean was doing fine and could handle everything on his plate and more, so he named Dean Captain of the swim team and assigned him to mentor the new junior transfer student. Castiel was the best swimmer Dean had ever seen. In the water he was a thing of beauty. A merman couldn't have taken to the depths more naturally, couldn't have looked more stinking gorgeous doing it. The number of awkward boners Dean sprung at school increased exponentially.

Coach was so awesome that when he caught Dean jerking off furiously in the locker room, eyes glued to where a naked Castiel had just disappeared from sight entering the shower room, he didn't say a word, just gave Dean a knowing smile, that sinful gleam in his eyes, and left.

But for all that Dean still couldn't have said how he got into his current situation. It was too much like a dream come true: Castiel on his knees before Dean, looking up at him with beautifully bemused blue eyes; Coach standing feet away instructing Castiel in measured tones to lower Dean's swim trunks, put a hand on Dean's cock, place a kiss on the leaking tip. It was impossible to spare thoughts on how he got there when Cas obeyed Coach, when Cas touched Dean, when pleasure seared through Dean so powerfully that his knees went weak, when Coach watched them both with his usual calm pride while he palmed himself through his jeans. Dean had no fricken clue how it had happened, all he knew was that come dribbling down Castiel's chin was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, that despite his deep voice Cas made the sweetest little high-pitched noises when he was touched just right, that the face Coach made when he finally lost control of himself brought Dean a warmer flush of triumph and pride than even Benny's praises for a race well swum did.

Dean had no clue how they'd reached that moment and he didn't care as long as he got to repeat the experience over and over and over again.

Coach Benny was the best.


End file.
